O Lord, Our Father - Poem by Mark Twain

O Lord, our father,Our young patriots, idols of our hearts,Go forth to battle - be Thou near them!With them, in spirit, we also go forthFrom the sweet peace of our beloved firesides To smite the foe.

O Lord, our God,Help us to tear their soldiersTo bloody shreds with our shells;Help us to cover their smiling fieldsWith the pale forms of their patriot dead; Help us to drown the thunder ofthe guns With the shrieks of their wounded,Writhing in pain.

Help us to lay waste their humble homesWith a hurricane of fire;Help us to wring the hearts of theirUnoffending widows with unavailing grief; Help us to turn them out rooflessWith their little children to wander unfriended The wastes of theirdesolated landIn rags and hunger and thirst,Sports of the sun flames of summerAnd the icy winds of winter,Burdened in spirit, worn with travail,Imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it -

For our sakes who adore Thee, Lord,Blast their hopes,Blight their lives,Protract their bitter pilgrimage,Make heavy their steps,Water their way with their tears,Stain the white snow with the bloodOf their wounded feet!

We ask it in the spirit of love -Of Him who is the source of love,And Who is the ever-faithfulRefuge and Friend of all that are sore beset And seek His aid with humbleand contrite hearts.